


Last Breath

by G_Drachen



Category: Original Work
Genre: Adopted Children, Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Foster Care, Gun Violence, Harm to Children, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 14:03:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2624483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/G_Drachen/pseuds/G_Drachen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dakota lives his life in fear. When he sees an opportunity to escape, he takes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Breath

**Author's Note:**

> Another short story I wrote ages ago (maybe around 2007?). I have submitted this to various competitions for it's genera and got mostly positive feedback.
> 
> This story has also been published in at least two magazines!
> 
> This character is also from the same book series I mentioned in my other short story, Of The Night.

"No, Please no!" I cry as she strikes me across the face again, much harder than she did the first time. "It was an accident!" I plead with her to stop. The pain is unbearable. Collapsing to the floor, terrified as she raises her hand again. In defence, I raise my hands up, but she pushes my hands away and grabs me by the scruff of the neck. Hauling me up, she drags me across the floor and throws me down the basement stairs. 

Landing hard, I look back up the stairs. But the door's been shut and bolted already. Lowering my head and dragging myself into the basement room, I collapse on my tattered blanket. Laying still on my side, the bruises on my body ache and itch. The cold sets me shivering. My tears are cold on my skin. I whine in pain, low drawn out howls of agony. I didn't intentionally break the vase. It was an accident, but she'll never understand that. She hates me. 

Lying on the concrete floor, the cold helps numb the pain. Shaking, I close my eyes, afraid to sleep. Crying in pain, the fear of unprovoked abuse is never far from my mind. I'll never understand why she hates me so much. It takes hours, but I finally drift off into a fitful sleep. 

I'm lying on my back when something warm falls across my body and wakes me up. Lying on my blanket, I absorb the heat from the rays of the sun that lay across my body. The warm light is pleasant, but it makes me itch. The day draws to a close and the sun goes down. Staggering up onto my hands and knees, I drag myself across the floor.

Finding myself in front of my broken mirror, I look over my body. My arms are badly bruised, my whole body covered in bruises and small cuts. My face is swollen; my miss-matched eyes - one light blue, the other green - have dark circles around them. Looking deep into them a hollow look greets me back. My dark hair is messy and dirty, flecked with my blood and dirt. Examining the rest of my body, I count my ribs, making sure none are broken, not hard in my emaciated state. All of my bones are clearly visible under my skin. At about 5 feet tall, I only weigh around 50 pounds. And that's a guess.

The day ends, but I won't sleep. I'll stay awake until exhaustion wins and I collapse. I'm starving, my stomach hurts, but there is no food to eat, the tap that gave me water is broken and doesn't work anymore. My stomach growls and aches, it's empty and the pains of hunger flare. Whining as the night brings the cold; I shiver but force myself to stay awake, sobbing quietly as pain flares throughout my body. There are noises above, they could be anything, but noise could easily mean she's coming down to beat me in another unprovoked attack as the victim of her anger. The thought terrifies me. 

Another sleepless night. Wrapped in my blanket to keep warm, sobbing, I'm starving; it's been three days since my last meal. Shaking form exhaustion and hunger, I look out the basement window. It's small, and so am I, but I won't fit though it. I've tried before and I’m too big for it. Tiredness finally wins the battle for my consciousness, and finally collapsing, I'm asleep before my head meets the floor.

After an hour or two, I'm awake again. Sleeping only an hour or two every few days to stay somewhat alert. I'm afraid to sleep. I'd love to sleep longer, for a week, two weeks! In a warm safe place, unafraid for my life, no pain, no hunger, no worries. But a tattered old blanket on a concrete floor is as good as it gets for me. 

I'm sitting against the wall, warped in my blanket when the sound of the door being un-bolted meets my ears followed by footsteps. I start shaking uncontrollably and look for a place to hide. But down here, there is nothing to hide in, under or behind. Holding my breath awaiting the worst, the footsteps come closer. Drawing myself as tight as I can into the corner, the pressure on my back hurts. 

Terrified, I look away and draw my blanket up over my head. The footsteps are right in front of me. Shaking fearfully, relaxing slightly when I see it's only Darwin. He places his hand out to me. Taking it, he helps me stand up. "Come along Dakota." He says calmly. I'm not afraid of him, he's never hurt me. He leads, the stairs are difficult, I'm unsteady and weak, and movement is painful. 

I'm lead though the main house. The light filtering in though the windows is bright and hurts my eyes. But I follow Darwin. He leads me up more stairs and hands me a towel and some clean clothing. Then he directs me to the bathroom and leaves me be. Turing on the water, I let it run hot. Using the bathroom as the tub fills, forcing myself up to the sink, drinking form the tap greedily, filling my stomach with the cool water. It may not be food, but it temporarily relives the pain of hunger form an empty stomach. Drinking until I can drink no more, I turn the tap off and get into the bath.

Slipping in, the water burns the cuts worse than salt! Washing quickly, scrubbing gently. The hot water is nice. I wash my hair, my body, behind my ears, between my toes. Taking advantage of my time alone, I soak for a few minutes in the hot water warming my body, letting the heat seep in. 

Getting out and wrapping myself in a towel, I sit on the toilet and dry off. The warm air of the bathroom is nice. It temporarily starves off the cold I'm forced to live with every day. Dressing quickly, back to the tap I drink my fill again, not knowing when my next chance to drink will come. I fall to the floor, nearly passing out, but I struggle to my feet and get up.

Leaving the bathroom, Darwin is waiting for me. He leads me down the stairs and to the kitchen. He places a bowl in front of me. Grabbing the spoon I eat quickly and hastily. Finishing in record time I don't bother to ask for more, knowing there probably isn't. There never is. I'm only fed enough to wade off starvation. If it wasn't for Darwin, I probably would have already starved to death.

Expecting to be forced back into the basement, I'm surprised when Darwin lets me walk free. "She's not going to be back for a while; you can stay out for a bit." He tells me, giving me a quick hug and kissing my forehead. The wide open space scares me. I'm not use to it. Looking out the back door of the house, I want to desperately bolt though it and never look back. 

Sitting by the basement door, I'm afraid to move. Darwin looks in on me from time to time. He's the only one who cares about me. I was a Christmas present to him as a baby. An adopted surprise. I don't know my real parents, I was told they didn't want me and got rid of me. Darwin always wanted a child, but she never did. I was the compromise. I don't know why he sticks with her, she's abusive, hates children, and he's caring and loves children. He's told me before he's always wanted a big family. 

Darwin finally picks me up and takes me into the main room of the house. Sitting on the couch, he holds me close and comforts me. He places his arm around me and rubs my back, careful to avoid hitting my bruises and larger cuts. He runs his hand though my hair while I curl into him. I don't get to sit with him often; this is the first time in weeks that she's left long enough for him to spend some time with me. He use to come into the basement and sit with me, but after she found out, he stopped.

I'm desperate to get back into my basement room. It's not any safer down there, but out of sight, out of mind. Sort of. Down there there's no chance of her catching me in sight, out in the open. The fear of doing something wrong also keeps me rooted; another beating is not high on my list. It's always been like this for as long as I can remember, I've never been loved or happy like other kids my age.

Sitting, the front door opens. Darwin quickly rushes me to the basement door, quick to hide me, but it's too late. I'm spotted. She shoves Darwin out of the way. She strikes me hard across the face. Whimpering I try and drag myself away. She grasps me around the throat and presses me to the wall. Choking and gasping for air, turning from white to blue I grab at her hands around my neck. Looking at her face sadly, it doesn't work. She lets me go and I drop, crumpling on the floor, she kicks me hard in the left hip.

The bone snaps with a crunch and agonising pain follows. Screaming out she kicks me hard again. The pain is excruciating, the worst I've ever felt at her abusive hands. I cry out weakly, I'm exhausted and broken; a low pitiful moan is all I can manage. She forces me though the basement door, tumbling down the stairs she follows. Landing in a heap, she grabs me forcefully. 

She shakes me violently, I feel sick. "What where you doing up there!" She screams in my face. "Answer me!" I don't reply, just cry and shake. "I though I've made it clear, you're NEVER to be up there!" 

"Darwin let me come up!" I cry, she shakes me violently again. She hauls me up away from the stairs, drops me on the floor and kicks out again. She misses and gets angrier. She grabs me again and slams me into the wall. Struggling, I break free of her grip. Dragging myself away beaten and bloody on two legs is hard enough, but on a badly broken one is almost impossible. Disgusted, she leaves. 

Lying on the floor in my room, I cry, the broken leg is excruciating! Crying and screaming until my throat is raw, I'm ignored and left alone. She knows I'll need to see a Doctor about it, but I'm being left to suffer as punishment for something I never did. I can hear them fighting in the house. She's furious Darwin took me upstairs. Darwin tries to tell her he was only cleaning me up, but she tears into him, screaming and yelling.

Night falls, my leg and body ache. Looking at the window, I drag myself over to it. Hauling myself up and removing the glass, I try and fit though. I'm still too big for the opening, but I'm determined to escape. Forcing my way though, scraping my skin raw, biting down tying not to make a single noise, I finally make it though. Freedom at last!

Dragging myself down the street, I'm not sure where to go. Years of abuse has made me fear people, I'm afraid to go for help. Grasping a lamppost, I haul myself up onto my feet to look around. There is a noise of a car coming around he corner. Not wanting to be found, I dive for the bushes. But it's too late I'm seen.

The car slows, and then stops. Reading the side of it, in big blue letters it reads the word "Police". Shaking, an older man gets out of the car. He's a bit chubby, mid forties, balding. He walks over to me, he calls to me. "Kid, hey kid!" He calls as I make to slide away into the bushes. He catches up with me and places his hand on my shoulder. Terrified of him, I'm ready to run, but my leg prevents it.

Trying to pull away anyway, the pain in my leg flares, I gasp, he sees. "It's alright kid, I'll help you." He says calmly, helping me to my feet. I don't trust him, but he helps me into the back of his car and taking off his coat, wraps it around my shoulders. 

In the car, he's on his radio. "I've got a young kid, looks about 12, he's bloody and beaten." He speaks quickly, a voice answers him. "Yeah, that's where I'm taking him." he says quickly. The indistinct voice answers him, but he ignores it and focuses on me. "What's your name kid?" He asks.

"D..da..kota." I stammer, unsure and afraid. I don't want to be here.

"What happened to you?" He asks, eyeing me in his mirror suspiciously.

"I was hit b..by a c..c..ar." I lie quickly. He asks more questions, I don't answer. Ignoring him I try the handle to the door. Locked. Trying the other side, locked. He continues asking me things. "What's your last name? Where are your parents? Where do you live?" But I don't answer him.

He looks at me as he pulls up to a large white building and shuts the car off. He picks me up, knowing I can't walk. He takes me into the building and walks up to a counter. He speaks quickly with whoever is behind the counter. I'm quickly taken from him and placed in a room. He leaves. That's when I realize, I'm in a Hospital. 

Laying still, breathing fitfully, and looking around my heart races. Two people one male, tall and thin, light hair. A female, shorter, bigger than the other, long dark hair tied up neatly. The pair moves in on me quickly. I'm undressed down to my underwear and they examine my body. I begin to cry, long low pitched howls, in agony and afraid.

"Leave me alone." I whine, trying to curl up into a ball and shy away from them. I've only ever been to a hospital once before, and it wasn't a pleasant experience. My life has never been pleasant, but Doctors can do far worse than she can, they can drug me with all kinds of things, and make me go to sleep against my will, they can cut me open and do things to my insides to make them hurt far worse than the result of any beating. 

That's the confusing thing about doctors, they poke, prod and hurt me, but they act nice and try and make me feel better after they've caused more pain.

"I know it hurts," the male says sticking something in my ear, it beeps. Then he shines a light in my eyes. "But we're only trying to help make you better." I'm shifted as they look me over, and they try to stretch me out. I resist them, not wanting to be touched, just wanting to hide and suffer quietly. Tucking into myself tighter, I try and ignore the pain I'm in and focus on staying curled up. 

They talk to me, trying to make me focus on their words and not their actions. "You allergic to anything Dakota?" The female asks. "What's your full name Dakota?", "Dose this hurt?", "Do you have any medical conditions?" Nodding at the questions I can answer yes or no to, but I don't tell them anything else.

Finally they seem to take the hint and leave me alone. But my relief is short lived. One of them comes back and I'm shifted onto my side, exposing my arm. "It's just going to be a little pinch buddy." The female voice tells me. I'm injected with medication before I can pull away. She leaves me alone as the medication begins to work. Feeling forcibly drowsy, they wait for the medication to take full effect. 

I feel sick to my stomach. Whining, the contents of my stomach come up. There's no food in my stomach, all that comes up is acid, and it burns my throat and mouth. Crying, more comes up, it burns. Crying even more from the new pains, she cleans my face and lays a towel under my head. Dry heaving a few times, my stomach clenches violently and there's nothing left to be brought up. My stomach keeps clenching, it hurts and feels like it's on fire.

Once I'm done being sick, they move in on me again. They continue examining me and rolling me onto my left hip, I cry out in pain. They quickly roll me over and focus on my hip. They move my leg, "Le...ave m..me alo...ne!" I whine, "Don...don't touch me!" They back off, but not for long. I'm given a second injection without warning, it numbs the pain even more, making me feel even drowsier. There is no pain anymore - until I'm moved - but in this state, I'm in no condition to protect myself from what they do to me. I can't think strait, I'm unaware, the medication is what makes me feel this way. Fearful, trying my hardest to resist the effects of the medication, if I focus on staying awake and alert as long as I can. Maybe the stuff they gave me won't work if I fight it off.

I can't really pay attention. The medication makes me feel un-naturally calm and un-attentive. I'm lifted up a few minutes later and taken down the hall into another room. Then I'm dressed in a set of hospital robes, then laid on a cold table and stretched out on my back. "L..lea..eave m..me..me a..l..l..lone!" I plead unable to string words together, but they ignore me and continue on. Looking around, and realizing I’m being left alone as they walk away. I make a break for it. Slipping off the table and landing on the floor, I try and stagger away with the quick surge of energy my body somehow gives me. 

Scrambling down the hall, I ignore the intense pain I'm in and the effects of the drugs. The pain makes me more alert. I don't make it far before I'm grabbed. "Leave me alone!" I scream, fighting to get away. But I'm held tight as I'm injected with something else. The new drugs nearly make me fall asleep, but I fight hard against them. Giving up, barely able to stay awake, I'm taken down the hall into the same room, laid on the table and left by myself while I'm under the big device. Then I'm taken down the hall into another room.

My breathing becomes shallow, my pulse slows, and I no longer feel anxious. Still nervous, but it's impossible to feel anything for long, the drugs have made me unable to concentrate on anything more than trying to resist them. And even that takes all the effort in the world. Lying on the table, three people come into my room. The two taller figures walk to the far side of the room and start talking. The third comes over to me. 

"This is going to be uncomfortable, but it's going to help." She says taking my hand and trying to put a drip line on me. After a few tries I take my hand back and place it under me. My movements are sluggish, but at least I can still move if I really, really try. "N..nn..oo.." I stammer, as she tries to take my hand back. She sits with me, then without warning pushes my head aside and puts the drip in my neck. I stiffen as she tapes the needle down. Around her I spot what the other two were discussing. 

Pinned on a board is an x-ray of my leg. It looks clearly broken, I already knew it was, but I was hoping they would overlook it. But I guess my reaction to being touched there and moved tipped them off. Shaking, terrified, the tallest of the pair that was discussing my X-rays comes over to me and sits. 

"Hey buddy," he asks me, "How are you feeling?" I glare at him, it's obvious I’m in pain, drugged, afraid and I defiantly don't want to be here. "I know you're sore, but we're going to make you feel better. But we have to make you go to sleep first." My heart stops. A chill runs though me. My worst fear, sleeping. Asleep I'm at the mercy of those around me. They could do anything to me. 

"N...nn...n." I begin to protest the idea. 

"Shhh," He clams. "I know you're scared, but it's not that bad. We're going to make you go to sleep, fix your leg and let you wake up." He says placing his hand on my back and patting me. "I promise when you wake, you'll feel better." Looking up at him, he looks back at me. Shaking he motions the nurse forward. 

I'm hooked up to several more machines. I want to resist, but it's impossible. I feel light headed and nauseous. Finally they finish. I hear beeping, as I'm taken down a hall into another room. The lights are bright and hurt my eyes. Looking around I can't make very much out. There are a few people, dressed in green, faces hidden by masks. One walks over to me and places something over my face. "Just relax, and count back from ten." He says. 

I hold my breath, not wanting to go to sleep. I try and move my face away, but the device is held over my face no matter what. Finally, giving in, I take a deep breath. Something other than plain air fills my lungs and I start to fall asleep against my will. Fighting it off, losing the battle, my eyes close and forcing them back open, they close again. After a few more seconds I'm unable to fight it anymore, and I drop out of consciousness.

* * * * * 

Waking up, my first thought is "Where am I?” Looking around, there is a tube in my mouth, forcing me to breathe normally. Someone is by the door reading something, then I remember what happened as it starts coming back. My leg being broken, running away, being found, the doctors. Finally whoever was by the door hears me moving and comes over. "Good morning." He says, removing the tube from my mouth so I can breathe on my own. "Try not to talk; your throat will be sore from being intibated. I know you're probably hungry too, but if you're doing well by lunch we'll see about getting you something to eat." He tells me as he notes something on a clipboard he brought with him. 

He leaves me on the drip and the other machine that's monitoring my heart. The morning passes in a haze. I'm not in pain, but I feel strange. Light as a feather, almost floating. Lunch is brought, but as hungry as I am, it doesn't appeal to me. But after a few forced bites settle my stomach, I find myself looking for more. I'm brought more, and eating that too, I feel much better. 

After lunch I figure I'm safe enough to rest. Even though I was asleep for the surgery, I don't feel rested. The bed I'm in is warm, comfortable, and there is no fear of being injured by anyone. Closing my eyes, planning to sleep as long as possible in this safe environment, I close my eyes willingly this time and drift off into the most peaceful sleep of my life. 

* * * * * 

Waking late in the night, I see someone sitting in a chair beside my bed, sleeping themselves. "D..aa..rr..win?" I stutter uncertainly. He doesn't move. Sitting up in bed, the clock says it's three in the morning. I've been asleep for nearly 13 hours! It's the longest I’ve ever slept! Sitting up, I look around. I'm still on the drip and the heart monitor, but I'm alright with it. Lying back down, I try and roll over onto my side, but something on my leg prevents it.

Looking down at my leg, it's bandaged heavily, and there is something sticking out of the bandages and a brace on my leg, holding it still. I reach down and take hold of the metal rod sticking out and give it a bit of a tug. The pain that follows makes me gasp. I decide to leave it alone. My gasp alerts Darwin, he stirs and wakes up. He stretches and looks at me. 

"Hey buddy." He says to me, reaching over and placing his hand under my face and with his thumb, he rubs my cheek. "How are you doing'?" I don't answer. He doesn't press the matter. He slides his chair over and sits with me. He leaves his hand under my head and I grasp his wrist and cry lightly into his hand. 

The night passes as Darwin sits with me. Finally morning comes and I'm released to go home. "These are to help with his pain. Give him two teaspoons full every four hours as needed. For the first few days try not to handle him, leave him to sleep. He probably won't want to eat and he will most likely be very lethargic. It's normal, but after two or three days at most, it should pass and he'll be a lot better." The nurse tells Darwin, handing him a bottle of medication. "Come with me and we'll book a follow up appointment in the clinic to have him checked over and have the sutures removed." 

Darwin carries me in his arms down the hall. I rest my head on his shoulder as they book the appointment for a week and a half later. The nurse gives him some paper work as well. "He can't get the sutures wet. If possible, it would be best to bathe him with a cloth until he has them removed. He should also stay inside, the cold weather and dampness could also be a problem. I'd advise you to keep him out of school as well, at least until next week. Then you can see how he's doing and depending on that, maybe he can go back." The nurse rambles on. "You can bring him back here in a few days so we can change the bandages and check him over, just bring him into the clinic, you don't need to make an appointment, but I would advise calling an hour or so before to let them know you're bringing him in." 

Darwin nods as he carries me down the hallway listening to the nurse, "Try to keep him drinking even if he won't eat, you may have to force him a bit, but it's crucial he stays hydrated, keep tabs on him, if he starts running a fever, bring him back." She talks too much. 

Darwin finally takes me out to the car and places me in the back. The air is cool, but he gives me his coat and drives me home. We arrive a short while later. Darwin takes me into the house and upstairs in the guest bedroom. They claim to anyone it's my room, but that's a lie. He gives me a dose of the medication the nurse gave him to give me, and leaves. 

I spend a lot of time in bed, the medication the hospital used on me wore off and the stuff that they gave Darwin doesn't really work. I don't sleep very much, afraid that she's going to come in and do something to me, but she ignores me. I'm visited late one afternoon by the police officer who picked me up off the streets. He looks in on me, doesn't say anything to me and leaves. I figure he was investigating the real story. I hope he finds out the truth, and locks her away, but she'll probably have some clever lie made up.

Darwin takes me into the clinic to have the bandages changed. It's a bit painful, the dried blood has glued the bandage into the stitches and they have to pull a little. I look at the neat line of stitches running down my side to the middle of my leg, the pin sticks out just above my hip. It's about as big around as a pencil, and I don't think I want to know how long it is. They clean the area with a yellow fluid, dry it then wrap it back up and send me home. 

Lying in bed, both Darwin and her are out. My leg aches and I can see the bottle of pain medication on the dresser. It doesn't work very well, but it helps a little bit. Shifting I try and get up. I can't stand, and I drag myself across the floor. I'm weak, worse than being tried and starved, but I make it over to the dresser. Finally getting the bottle, I take a mouthful and swallow. It tastes horrible and as it hits my empty stomach I gag. Then placing the bottle back, I climb my way back to bed and fall into a light sleep.

A week later I'm taken back to have the stitches removed. "Hold still." The nurse says trying to remove the first one. They've healed into the skin and she has to dig into me to get them out. "It hurts!" I whine. 

"I know it hurts, but they have to come out." She says digging at the first one again. I pull away and turn onto my side, hiding my leg. They then decide to freeze the area. The medication numbs the pain, but it's still uncomfortable. Darwin holds me down as the nurse removes them. I count the stitches as they are removed. There are 49 in all. They don't bandage my leg back up, but leave it open to the air. "He can take a bath now, but I would advise against soaking until the pin is removed." She says as we check out and Darwin takes me home.

I'm sent back to the basement. It's cold and lonely, but I feel more secure down here. Days pass, and I'm given a small meal of leftovers. Taking the food that won't go bad and hiding it, saving some for later to eat. I sleep a little as well, but every time I end up rolling on my pinned leg. I usually sleep on my left side, but with the pin sticking out at least three inches, it's impossible. 

A few weeks pass in a bit of a haze. I don't feel very good and think I'm getting a cold; I've lost interest in food, even though I'm starving. I'm taken in for my appointment to see about having the pin removed. I'm excited, and afraid. Having the pin removed means I can sleep on my left side again, and there is no more having to avoid hitting it. But I don't know how they plan on removing it; will I have to have another surgery to have it removed?

They take x-rays of my leg, "It looks like we should be able to remove the pin." The doctor says showing Darwin my x-rays. "We'll try sedating him first and pulling it out, if not, we'll probably have to knock him out. But we'll keep that as a last resort. I don't like putting kids his age under, too many risks." 

I'm given the sedative. It makes me feel groggy and even worse than I did when I was "hit by the car". I feel venerable lying on the table. My movement is sluggish and I don't feel in control of myself. I'm scared, the feeling is frightening. In a way, I wish they would have put me to sleep, that way I wouldn't know what was happening and it wouldn't be so nerve racking. 

They numb the area, I watch as they try to remove the pin. Terrified, but a bit curious as well. They pull hard, but it doesn't want to come easily. I don't feel any pain, but the sensation caused by them moving of my leg is strange. They finally pull the pin out, it's longer than expected. It's nearly a foot and a half long! They put three stitches in where the pin stuck out, and place a small bandage over the area. 

"You don't have to bring him back; these ones will dissolve on their own. Keep his activity limited for a few more weeks, it will probably be at least a year until he's fully healed, but it won't restrict his life too much." The doctor says as Darwin picks me up and carries me out. I'm too drugged to walk on my own. 

In the car, I roll onto my left side and cry, the medication is wearing off and it feels like my leg's been broken all over again. I feel every bump in the road, every slight movement of the car as it turns a corner; every little movement sets off pain. I'm drooling a bit as well, I'm not sure why I'm drooling, but after a few seconds my stomach lurches and I vomit all over the back of the car. 

Darwin pulls over into a gas station and cleans the car; he lays me in the front seat. Someone he knows comes over and offers to help. I'm handed over and she takes me into the rest room and cleans me up. "Shh" She calms as she wipes my face clean. "Shh." She soothes rocking me on her hip as she takes me to Darwin. Whoever she is, she holds me and rocks me. I wish she wouldn't, it makes my stomach even more upset. Finally, I'm placed back in the car, this time on top of plastic and am taken home. 

Back home I'm left in the basement again. The drugs wear off even more and I feel more alert, the pain comes back as a dull throb, but it's bearable. After a few days, out of boredom, I decide to remove the stitches by myself. Removing the bandage, I pick at them. Undoing the knot in the first one and pulling it out, I wince. It comes out easily and there is a bit of blood, but it doesn't really hurt. Removing the rest, I place the bandage over the cut and leave it be. 

A few hours later, I'm trying to dose off when the door opens. It immediately sets me on alert. I know Darwin's at work. There's only one person it could be. Her. Coiling up, she comes over to me and acts falsely nice. I'm instantly suspicious. "It's time for your next appointment." She says curtly and motions me forward. Getting up I look at her and tremble. She's the reason I'm in this situation. I have every right to hate her, every right to despise her, every right not to trust her. 

In the car, I hesitate to even breathe. I shake in fear the entire ride. She pulls the car over onto the side of the road and looks at me. "Get out." She says flatly. Obeying, I open the door and stand on the side of the road. She gets out and follows me. She shoves me in front of her, deep into a wooded area. She stops and faces me. 

Reaching behind her back, she glares at me. "You've made your last mistake." She growls and pulls a gun from behind her back. She pushes me against a tree and shoves the gun into my ribs. She pulls the trigger and the bullet tears though my chest. I gasp and fall to the ground. 

I yelp, she ignores me and pulls a bottle of something out of her pocket. Opening the container, there is a strong smell. Gas! She pours the entire contents of the container over me. Then form her other pocket, she takes a match, lights it and flicks it at me. 

The gas ignites and I'm in even more pain. "No!" I whisper, barely audible, "Please no!" But she only laughs, and walks away. I try and roll to put out the flames, but it doesn’t seem to work. I'm left alone to die. The flames lick my body, burning scorching holes into me. Dragging myself across the forest floor, stumbling, I fall down a hill and land in a creek. The flames die, but the damage is done, dragging myself out of the water, I collapse on the bank. Taking my last ragged breath, I lay my head down and cry. And with one last pitiful howl, I black out.


End file.
